


Boredom, Pity, and Reminders

by umkimkai



Series: Soviet AU [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Jongin is in a wheelchair, M/M, Soviet Au, i'm honestly a terrible person for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 04:41:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8190442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umkimkai/pseuds/umkimkai
Summary: Sehun hated being bored. Being bored reminded him of his mistakes. But Sehun was always bored. 
Sehun was always reminded.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is still more world building for my soviet au but its also shameless sekai angst
> 
> i put jongin in a wheelchair. i put my ult bias in a wheelchair and i deserve death, truly

Sehun was almost always bored. He existed in a constant state of boredom, and the never-changing stoic expression on his face was testimony to that. He was advised to pick up a hobby. 

So he took up martial arts, and that’s how he landed a full-time job. So much for a hobby. But his job could be more than just sitting on his bed all day. His job was quite exhilarating at times. 

After all, spying on Soviet scientists making nuclear weapons wasn’t exactly risk free.

Yet the excitement of his job faded after one year in. He lost his field partner thanks to a Soviet bomb. A bomb that should’ve hit him. 

_A crackle. Sehun lifts his walkie talkie to his ear, hearing the voice on the other end._

_“Sehun, switch your position with mine.”_

_“Why? I was told to scout this section of the field. Stop trying to steal the spotlight all the time.”_

_“Humor me just once, please Sehun.”_

_The voice sounded hurried, like if Sehun didn’t switch then the speaker might cry. Sehun rolled his eyes, cursing himself for being such a generous pushover. Okay that was a lie. But he switched anyways, making his way towards the shelter of the snowy woods outside of the facility. In the heart of Russia, the enormous building housed some of the deadliest weapons in the world, and he’d been sent with his partner to scout out the area. It was in the center of a large open field, and the woods lined the edges of the field. Sehun crouched at the edge, memorizing the field and layout of the exterior to record on a map later._

_Then it happened. Like a scene out of an action thriller, Sehun watched as his partner sprinted across the field, seeking shelter in the trees. But he wasn’t running towards the tree line Sehun was in, despite it being the closest. He was running the opposite direction. Sehun was frozen, watching as Jongin managed to make it to the trees. The trees where an empty base lay, a diversion. A missile was launched from the Soviet facility._

_A blast of heat hit Sehun’s face as the bomb landed. He couldn’t even scream._

_A crackle. He lifted his walkie talkie again, listening to the voice._

_“Sehun… Thanks for switching…”_

_“Jongin, hang on, I’ll be right there.”_

Sehun hates the Soviets. Hates the Chinese scientists working with the Soviets whom they’ve been keeping tabs on for three years. He hates them for Jongin’s sake. Because Jongin was never the type to hate. He could be intense in a fight, but every other moment he was soft. He was gentle with anything that had a pulse, he overflowed with a deep, genuine laughter that you couldn’t help but smile at. Jongin didn’t deserve it.

Jongin didn’t deserve the wheelchair. He didn’t deserve a sentence to a life behind a screen. He didn’t deserve the loss of his legs, the loss of his ability to dance. Jongin had long ago spoken to Sehun about this matter.

_“Jongin… The doctors said—“_

_"I know Sehun. They already operated. I’ll live, but the nerves below my waist are useless.” Sehun couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand the gentle, pitied smile that Jongin gave him. Why was Jongin pitying him? He should be pitying Jongin. He’d robbed Jongin of the potential his life held._

_"Don’t.”_

_Sehun looked up, frantically wiping at the scalding tears rolling down his cheeks. Jongin had a firm look. “Sehun, I know what you’re thinking. Don’t. It’s not your fault. I made you switch with me, and I’m your hyung. You had to listen.”_

Two years. Two years had passed and Jongin hadn’t lost his soft heart, not even after he lost his legs. He still wore puppy slippers. He still put six scoops of sugar in his coffee. He still slapped his knee, his laughter pouring out like light when he saw Chanyeol do something stupid.

Two years and while Jongin had forgiven Sehun and the Soviets, Sehun hadn’t. Chanyeol became his new partner, and Baekhyun was reassigned to gathering information rather than being directly in the field. Two years of being with the loud giant and missing the comfort of Jongin’s arms in the cold of the Russian winters.

Sehun had grown distant from Jongin in two years. Despite living in the same apartment building, he couldn’t help but avoid Jongin. Seeing the wheelchair, seeing Jongin try and get up the ramps on his own, refusing Kyungsoo’s help because “Hyung I can do it on my own, it’s okay”, made Sehun feel like absolute shit.

Sehun avoided all the places Jongin was. The room with computers and games, the cafeteria, the kitchen. Basically anywhere that would provide amusement. 

His constant boredom returned. 

There was only one way to channel all of his energy, all of his hatred. Fighting. Sehun trained constantly. He avoided the gymnasium, Chanyeol was always there and that meant Baekhyun was too. Sehun vowed to himself he wouldn’t use the gym until those mats were professionally cleaned.

So he set up a mini training center in his own suite, leaving only when there was a mission or when he needed to go grocery shopping. He was on his way back from a trip, a brown bag clutched in one arm as he fumbled for the keys. He heard a door open and turned his head to make sure it wasn’t Jongin. It was.

Jongin still looked as youthful as Sehun remembered, his eyes curling into gentle half-moons as he smiled at Sehun. Before the wheelchair, Jongin had been taller. Sehun had been used to looking up. Now, Sehun was an even six feet, and he forced himself to look down at Jongin. “Hi hyung,” he managed to choke out.

Jongin was smiling. Smiling as though nothing had changed. “Sehun, I feel like I haven’t seen you in a month.”

“Yeah, a month,” Sehun mumbled. He hadn’t been counting or anything.

Jongin’s lips formed into a pout, and he wheeled a bit closer. “Has it really been that long?”

“Yeah,” Sehun said, wincing at how cold he sounded. He wrestled with his key, trying to open the door. His fingers slipped, the keys dropped to the floor, and he cursed under his breath.

He felt Jongin staring, and he didn’t turn, knowing his expression would be one of pity. He didn’t want Jongin’s pity. He bent down, picking up the keys and pressing it into the lock, hearing a comforting click as he turned the knob.

“Sehun.”

He hated the way Jongin sounded so sad. He hated the way he sounded like he genuinely missed Sehun. How he could miss the man who’d ruined him.

“Sehun, please.”

“Goodbye, Jongin.”

He slipped into the apartment, locking the door. He set the groceries down on the counter, facing the windows that opened out to the city below him. He didn’t like American cities. They were boring.

Sehun hated being bored. Being bored reminded him of his mistakes. But Sehun was always bored. 

Sehun was always reminded.


End file.
